


It's Beginning To Get To Me

by Hannyski



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannyski/pseuds/Hannyski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Niall have a heart-to-heart during the Take Me Home press tour. Ziall, with mentions of Zerrie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Beginning To Get To Me

Zayn’s sitting on a hotel roof garden in Italy or Paris or Berlin or some other unclear city, and he’s pretty sure he’s not meant to be up here, and he’s definitely not meant to be smoking. He can literally see the flowers creeping along the wall starting to wilt, but he’s beyond caring about property damage – not like he’s gonna be the one who pays for it. The press tour for Take Me Home has been exhausting, the boys haven’t slept in days, Louis and Liam have butted heads a thousand times and Harry has taken to getting tattoos instead of talking about his issues. Niall and Zayn seem to be the only sane ones left, and Zayn’s sanity is questionable at this point – he’s fighting with Perrie, chain-smoking whenever he can get the chance, and he’s currently sporting a fucking cinnamon roll for hair. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket and ignores it, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. An hour alone, that’s all he wants.

“You gonna get that?” A familiar Irish voice pipes up, and Zayn stiffens momentarily, before relaxing, turning to face Niall.

“No,” Zayn mutters, stubbing his cigarette out in a flowerpot as it reaches the filter.

“It was me.” Niall says, his voice unusually small. “I was looking for you,” he adds, kicking the gravel.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, concerned.

“I wanna go home, Zayn. I’m sick of this.” Niall replies, and he slurs slightly, uneasy on his feet as Zayn rounds on him, suspicious.

“Are you drunk?” He demands. “Niall, we have interviews all day tomorrow, what are you thinking?”

“Harry does it!” Niall protests. “I bet he’s doing it right now.”

“Well he can hold his alcohol and you’ll feel like crap tomorrow. Come on, sit down, get some fresh air.”

“I want to go home, Zayn.”

“Do you want me to take you back to your room?”

“No, real home. Ireland or London even, not some bullshit hotel room. Take Me Home, what a load of – I don’t have a home anymore. The album’s a lie, the entire thing is a lie, I don’t want to be here, I want a day off.” Niall explodes, and it’s not just the alcohol talking, Zayn can tell he’s been bottling this up for weeks.

“Sit down.” Zayn says quietly.

“Where…?” Niall looks around, and Zayn swears he’s never seen him so lost and he never wants to see him this lost again. He leans him against a wall and sits on the edge. Feeling the cold, he lights another cigarette and takes a drag, patting Niall’s head awkwardly.

“Look mate, I know it’s hard, it’s taking a toll on all of us now, and you more than most because we’re all showing the cracks and you’re the one who has to hold us together, but it’s gonna be over eventually.”

“I just wanna be able to go home and get some sleep in my own bed,” Niall said sadly. Zayn nods.

“Yeah me too. Soon, okay? We’ll make a fuss, get them to give us a few days off. Maybe when the album comes out-“

“Then we rehearse for Madison Square Garden and a hundred Jingle-related shows and twenty different award shows and I just want to sleep for a while,” Niall whines, almost stamping his foot before realising he’s sat down.

“Soon, okay. We’ll get it sorted, they can’t have One Direction without One Direction,” Zayn says weakly, though he knows it’s not true. The little scribbles on piles of papers in Simon Cowell’s desk drawer (probably framed – Uncle Simon’s five little cash cows) from two years ago have trapped the boys in what could be a lifetime of compliance, and Zayn knows that with all the highs, come the inevitable lows. Niall snorts, and Zayn can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“I wish we weren’t…” Niall starts. “Nah, I don’t. Never mind. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I just want to stop for a minute and take it in, y’know?”

Zayn nods mutely, taking another slow puff on his cigarette to avoid saying something else equally stupid and disheartening.

“Can I have one?” Niall asks suddenly, the silence crowding in unbearably.

“One what?”

“A cigarette.” It sounds weird coming out of Niall’s mouth.

“Have you ever…? Don’t start. It’s grim,” Zayn says protectively, a hand automatically flying to the carton in his pocket.

“I just… you say it helps you to de-stress, right? Well I could use some of that right now. Please.” Niall stares Zayn down until he hands him his half-finished cigarette and lights another.

“Stuff’ll kill ya,” Niall comments, taking a drag and dissolving into coughing instantly.

“Woah, easy.” Zayn groans, sliding down the wall to take a seat next to Niall, settling a leg over Niall’s thigh and an arm around his shoulder, trying to re-establish the closeness that has started to feel false as they sit on crowded couches for endless interviews. “Slowly, just breathe it in,” he says. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. It’ll ruin your voice, it’s gonna ruin mine eventually,”

“Never.”

Zayn laughs and blows a smoke ring in response. Niall’s just staring at the burning end of the cigarette now, watching it grow closer and closer to his fingers.

“Feeling better now?” Zayn asks softly, squeezing Niall’s shoulder.

“Yeah. But not because of this, because of… this.” He gestures between the two of them. “I just… it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? I feel like I’m a hundred different people all at once.”

“Just let it out once in a while, mate. It’s not the end of the world if someone else gets upset, you need to look out for yourself first.”

“Yeah,” Niall sounds unconvinced, extinguishing the cigarette on the gravel.

“Yeah.” Zayn says firmly. “You can’t bottle everything up. It won’t end well, for any of us.”

Promptly, Niall leans over and kisses him. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and Niall and Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise but it’s over quicker than it happens. They stare at each other, Niall looking as shocked as Zayn does.

“You’re wrong,” Niall whispers, leaning away. “Bottling is definitely the way to go.” He makes a move to leave and staggers slightly, falling back onto the ground with a thud. “Shit.” There’s a pause.

“Shit.” Zayn agrees, grabbing Niall’s shirt and kissing him again, dropping his own cigarette to tangle his free hand in Niall’s hair. Niall responds eagerly, clutching Zayn’s chest like he might disappear at any moment. They break apart after a few minutes.

“Shit.” Niall says again, touching Zayn’s kiss-swollen lips. “Sorry.”

“I’m not.” Zayn gets up nonchalantly. “Come on, let’s go in. You’re freezing,” He smiles casually, but when he reaches a hand to Niall he can see that it’s shaking. Niall takes it and as he’s pulled to his feet Zayn twines their fingers and opens the door back inside for Niall and makes sure he doesn’t fall. He walks him to the door of his room and pauses, rocking back and forth on his feet, wondering what to do next.

“Can we never talk about what just happened?” Niall mutters, pulling his hand away and swiping his key card.

“If you want.” Zayn shrugs, faking indifference.

“And then can you come in here and hold me for a while?” Niall adds.

“Definitely.” Zayn almost trips over his feet in his eagerness.


End file.
